Overdue

A Undertaker/Grell oneshot by Phoenix of Starlight.

If there was anything Grell hated more than weakness, it was work. And his superior, William T. Spears, wasn't helping out with that. (Handsome as though he may be,) Will was being just too harsh on Grell's delicate womanly body - the redhead could only take so much. And his most recent assignment seemed as though it would be the most difficult one yet.

'Undertaker has been keeping some Cinematic Records for too long, and you need to go get them back. Don't you dare offend him, Sutcliff, or I'll confiscate your chainsaw and give you toenail clippers!'

Who did William think Grell was - Sebastian? Because he wasn't, and he doubted he'd be able to handle this assignment! After all, Undertaker required a good laugh before he did anything, and Grell's pride didn't exactly lie in telling jokes. Grell's pride lay in femininity and seductiveness. If Undertaker didn't go for that, the redhead would be completely helpless.

But it was his only hope, after all.

Grell walked along the streets, dressed in a long, red dress, his highest heels, with his hair curled so that it fell down his shoulders nicely. He had put on just the right amount of makeup on, and was confident that if this didn't work, nothing (other than a good joke) would. He turned into Undertaker's shop, and as he stepped in, the musty smell of dust and whatever oddities that the redhead really didn't want to explore at the moment. He didn't see the mortician anywhere, and as he stood awkwardly at the entrance, he wondered if the undertaker was out at a cemetary somewhere. That would make things much easier.

The reaper explored for a little bit, nosing around the counter and exploring shelves that didn't look as though they'd been touched in decades. He huffed a sigh in frustration as he stepped over a coffin, realizing that at this rate, he'd only find more skulls and morbid knick-knacks. "Undertaker?" he called softly. "Are you here?"

After a long, silent pause, Grell sighed, and leaned over, before taking the lid off of a coffin. Upon finding a corpse, he shut the casket again, only a bit disturbed (after all, he was a reaper). He tried this a few times, only coming up with empty caskets or corpses, when he got something new altogether. It was a coffin that had been lying right beside the front desk. It wasn't particularly nice looking, but it had engraved on it 'R.I.P. Undertaker.' Grell could only assume that this was the creepy mortician's own, personal coffin, and he opened it with reluctance, to find the Undertaker himself, fast asleep, his arms crossed. The redhead supressed a giggle at the sight, with the silverette's slightly pink lips in a tired pout, his body blanketed by his own cloak, which just barely showed pale, scarred shoulders. The young reaper could only guess whether the Undertaker was wearing anything beneath the cover of his black cloak. The bangs had fallen mostly to the sides of his face, revealing lightly lashed eyelids. Oh, how Grell adored this man's eyes.

... Was Undertaker even breathing?

A little worried, Grell delivered a prod to the other male's cheek, and he almost immediately found himself swatted away. The silverette sat up, his tired, golden-green eyes opening into a glare. Grell gave a sheepish grin, and waved at the other. "Hello~!" he greeted.

"Miss Grell?" Undertaker noted with suprise. He paused, then grinned. "Oh my, how lewd of a woman such as yourself to see me in such a state. Please, allow me one moment to get dressed." The mortician disappeared under the cover of the coffin lid before Grell had a chance to protest, and the redhead sighed in disappointment when he realized that the eyes had entranced him so much that he didn't get to look at the other's (probably) handsome and toned chest. A trace of mischief crossed Grell's expression, and he reached for the lid - just to get a peek - when Undertaker himself took the lid off and sat up, fully dressed (to Grell's chagrin). "What brings you to my shop today, m'dear?" Undertaker asked, a cheshire grin plastered to his face.

"Oh, well, you devilishly handsome man, I'm in a bit of predicament, you see," Grell said, reaching forward and shamelessly trailing his fingers around on the silverette's chest. Undertaker giggled at the light touch, being rather ticklish, but he was experienced, and caught Grell's drift as the hand moved towards the neck of his cloak, with clear intentions of getting it off again.

"Whoops, sorry, m'dear, but I'm kind of cold. Although, I must say...," Undertaker said, taking the redhead's hand and planting a kiss on it, "you look absolutely lovely today, Miss Grell." The redhead forfeited a light blush at the sensation of those gentle lips brushing against his hand, and even more at the words spoken. But he quickly remembered his assignment, and he leaned in close, until he was inches away from the Undertaker.

"Listen, honey, you've got something I need," Grell whispered, his voice low and seductive. "But I'm willing to help you, if you help me." He could barely see the other blink beneath the bangs, and he paused in confusion as he saw the silverette's eyes trail down to his lips. The mortician hands flashed out, and two long, black nails pried Grell's lips apart, revealing the sharp teeth beneath.

Grell felt anger bubbling up inside him. Not at the other male, but rather, at himself. When was he going to get those teeth evened out, anyway? They totally ruined his look, and seemed to creep everyone out. As he waited impatiently for Undertaker to stop looking at them in such an indecent manner, he made a mental note to take care of that.

"My, I'm sorry, m'dear, but I've always wanted a good look at these," Undertaker said with a smug expression. "Hey, open up, would you?" Beyond confused, Grell opened his mouth, and he blushed as Undertaker came close and looked around in his mouth. The redhead breathed through his nose, his heart rate increasing. Finally, the mortician released him, and he closed his mouth, watching for a reaction. "You, my dear, have the most beautiful teeth I've ever seen!" Undertaker announced, tucking his arms close over his chest as his body gave a little (almost sexy) squirm. "Flawless and dangerous, I've never seen such glorious deciet in my entire life! Tell me, m'dear, what is it you need?" The reaper finished violently scratching out his mental note, before Undertaker's question sank in.

"Oh!" Grell gasped, remembering once more. Curse this man for being so sly. "My darling Undertaker, you have some lo~ong overdue Cinematic Records that need to be returned." The slightest change in the room's energy changed, and Grell was lucky to have missed the flash of malice in Undertaker's eyes. No one told that man what to do without making him laugh first. But the older male quickly regained his cheery demeanor and sat back, giving a small giggle.

"Those old things?" he said. "Miss Grell, a woman such as yourself need not carry such heavy books all the way back to the Library. I'll take care of it, later, okay?" When reapers fly.

Grell pouted, folding his arms. "I can take care of myself, but I appreciate the thought, Undertaker, darling. Now, if you would be so kind..."

Undertaker placed his hands on Grell's shoulders, and leaned in close. "I insist, Miss Grell, you can find better entertainment." The young reaper was torn. One one hand, there was William, and the praise he could get if he returned successful. On the other hand, there was this delicious ex-reaper who seemed to be offering much more than a bone-shaped cookie.

Oh, who was he kidding?

Grell almost immediately glomped the mortician, and was delighted when he somehow managed to land his lips on the others (since that move rarely resulted well). Undertaker kissed back happily, glad that he found something to do (other than sleep) today, and wrapped his arms around the attractive redhead's waist, rubbing the other's lower back with black nails.

"Tell me, my red reaper," the undertaker whispered as they parted from the kiss. "What do you feel for me, exactly?"

"Well, darling, love is one confusing thing," Grell purred. "I've been trying for years to figure it out. But... maybe you were the one I was looking for."

Undertaker grinned.

"And that's quite enough for me, m'dear!"

The next day...

An overly cheerful Grell Sutcliff walked into work, and was striding down the halls, a spring in his step, when he ran into William. "Oh, Will, you would not believe the night I had!" the redhead announced, before starting to babble on about how he and Undertaker had fallen in love.

"Did you get the books, Sutcliff?" William asked, silently praying that he wouldn't have to go down their and get them himself. His sense of dread rose when Grell made a confused face.

"Books?" he murmured.

William sighed, hanging his head. Damn that sneaky, old ex-reaper.

"... What books?"

-Owari.

Haha! Thank you for reading this little oneshot! And keep an eye out for 'Everlasting Wishes,' my upcoming Claude/Grell AU fic!

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